Old Gold (A Study Of Pinako Rockbell)
She didn't always used to be called Pinako Rockbell, you know. One of the brightest minds in the business, a queen amongst automail engineers- the Bolt Goddess, they used to call her in mixed reverence and envy, Pinako Brandenholt, wild young genius, able to work miracles with things that others thought no more than heaps of scrap iron.
Ah, those were the days, and she still picks them up and polishes them occasionally, watching the bright sunlight flash incandescently off the clear steel memories. She can remember when she was little, when she grew a little older, and oh, here's when she set up shop in Rush Valley- all male attention on her, thanks very much- and that's when she met him, Taver Rockbell, an all-but-nameless alchemist who nevertheless wooed and won her with a passion that she had previously only experienced with automail.
She still misses him. Winry looks nothing like her rough-edged grandfather. Yet it is nothing but stubborn pride for her still-perfect memory that keeps her from putting old yellowed photos of him everywhere. Oh, she remembers why she doesn't put pictures of herself anywhere- even in her youth, she was a bit of a picture-phobe- because in her youth she was tall and strong and beautiful, and look at her now? All that's left of that glorious past is a shriveled, dumpy little midget of a woman, with hair that sticks out like a bottlebrush and a liking for old, fragrant tobacco. Her eyes are dim, her hands no longer grip the tools as tightly as she used to, and even Den follows her around anxiously.
Sometimes, the dumpy little mechanic lies in bed and thinks, I want to go see Taver. One last time. And Keiji, my sweet son, I want to hug you and tell you it's okay, mom's with you now, and where's your wife, what's her name? Dalia? I'm so sorry I let you go out there. But then, I couldn't have stopped you...you're just like your father.
Just like your father.
But then, she's an automail engineer to the very marrow, and hers is a hardy breed. Each time she allows herself these thoughts and then heaves herself out of bed, packing them firmly away like she clears the tools from her workbench.
Edward, that imprudent young whelp, will be calling in soon. She knows it's not his intention to call, and to him he only calls out of necessity, but she built his automail and she's always ready to scold him for all the trouble he puts himself through. After all, there was a reason why she tried to dissuade him from joining the military. That's no place for a feisty young blood like him, no place for someone so idealistic he tried to raise his dead mother, no place for someone who loves Alphonse as much as Ed does.
She tried. She let him go anyway. That's what grandmothers do best.
Still, somewhere under the dull tarnish of old age, the automail of her soul still glitters defiantly, like the shine of good, old gold that keeps its shine with a minimum of polish. There are still people who remember the name of Pinako Rockbell. And this old lady won't go without a damn fight worthy of her long, hard-won history.
----
Argh... after Winry, it just seemed so natural to move on to Pinako. But Mustang is next, I promise! (wibble) Stay tuned for the next instalment...